I never know how to start these blog posts sometimes. In my mind, I jokingly hear something, like, ‘Hi, my name is Kim and I’m a hot mess.’ I guess I’m not alone with feeling like that. Everybody’s got stuff in their lives that they are dealing with. And it doesn’t always show. And we tend to keep that to ourselves because it can seem like it may be embarrassing to think you’re a hot mess.
But most likely, you’re not really a hot mess, you just have
life going on. You’re just a normal person with normal problems. The kind of
problems that for some reason we’ve been made to believe are better to keep private
so people don’t judge you. So, we’re always fine. Great! Perfect. Nothing to
see here. Mind your business.
Tonight marks two years since Robby passed away. Some people
tell me it gets easier as time goes on and some say the second year is the
hardest. I don’t know, honestly. I think every day is what it is. That’s the
thing about grief. You never know when it will hit you. It could be a moment at
work when someone asks how your day is going, and when you go to say, “Great,”
you end up in tears and you don’t know why because you’ve gotten so comfortable
saying everything is fine, you push those hard feelings out of your mind.
Rather than focus on the things that Robby has missed the
past two years, I try to focus on how far I’ve come. I have an awesome job,
super amazing friends, and a loving supportive family. For the first time in my
life, I own a home in my name, I bought a car by myself, and I have slowly created
enough financial stability to build for the future.
As for the ‘break-up’ I wrote about last blog? Turns out, it
was a ‘wake-up’ and not a ‘break-up.’ The
wake-up? For me, I realized I was sabotaging the chance to have an amazing
relationship with an amazing man. It’s hard for someone to love you when you
are holding back and not allowing them to love you the way you want to be loved. And I'm grateful for the wake-up, because there's a lot of love there and it's pretty awesome.
Someone pointed out to me that you have to be vulnerable or
else you’ll never have a really deep and connected relationship with anyone. Yuck,
who wants to be vulnerable? But vulnerable is good. Cutting to the chase is
good. Even bad is good because you never know what’s possible if you aren’t
honest. It’s what moves you forward. Even when it hurts, and you never want to
feel sad again.
And moving forward is the best choice when you’re still
alive. Robby’s death made me realize how short life can be. And I don’t want to
spend the rest of my life spinning my wheels because I’m scared of being hurt
or worried about what people think about me.
Robby would be proud of me. I know that because we talked a
lot about what would happen when he died. He was always very clear that he didn’t
want me to withdraw from the world and be sad. He told me he wanted me to find
love again because I deserved to be loved and I was too young to live alone, closed
off from the outside world that I love so much. He said, “Just promise me that
when you do fall in love again, it’s with a man that realizes how amazing you
are and loves to laugh and enjoy life as much as you do.” And that’s a promise
I plan to keep.
I don’t know how today will go with the kids. I’ve
done a few pulse checks to see how they are feeling, and I get the same
response--them nodding their heads, eyes watering up, telling me they are OK.
They’re fine. Great. Perfect. Nothing to see here. Mind your business. I wonder
where they get that from?
I’m sure we’ll have some people reach out and say they are thinking about us today. We always do. And it’s nice to be remembered. It really is.
So, what I’ll ask for this year, don’t worry about me. I’m
good. I’ll always be a little sad, but I knew this was coming at some point and
have made my peace. I spent that first year after Robby’s death working on
myself and getting to a place where I felt like myself again. Like I was ready
to take on the world, by myself. Unstoppable. And I kept hearing that voice telling
me I needed to get out and live my best life. And I am.
But the kids aren’t in that same place. I honestly don’t
know if they ever will be. So, send them your love. Find a way to let them know
you haven’t forgotten about their dad or them.
I know we all get busy with life, and it can be awkward to
reach out sometimes. I’m not mad about it. But, vulnerable is good. Cutting to
the chase is good. Even bad is good, right? Because it’s OK to be scared and
sad and not know what you are doing. There isn’t a rulebook for life. All any
of us can do is try.
And while even bad can be good, trying is better than nothing.
Nothing isn’t going to move you forward. Everyone else will find a way to move
on without you when you do nothing. Because life moves on even when you don’t
want to--even when it hurts, and you never want to feel sad again.